


Let it die

by thp_cara (TheHolosexualPan)



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Heartbreak, Hopeful Ending, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Other, Unhappy Ending, Unrequited Love, Weddings, Zouchies, but in the fic, perhaps, zed is going through it TM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28646460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHolosexualPan/pseuds/thp_cara
Summary: It shouldn't hurt as much as it does, Zedaph thinks, but he'd long passed the point of things being as they should be.
Relationships: impulseSV/Tango Tek (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 55





	Let it die

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Let it die [GIFT]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28647456) by [Gridaph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gridaph/pseuds/Gridaph). 



> Inspired by a friend's gift, enjoy the angst ^^

The wedding itself is small, and it’s ironic really, given the way both Impulse and Tango are known for always going above and beyond, building chunk-wide farms when needing just a few of the same item, making their bases grand and out of the most expensive blocks they have, short of diamond blocks, but this is different. Still, Zedaph thinks it fits them, a nice clearing, the bright sun slicing through the leaves and leaving the ground spotted in a glowing pattern, chains with lamps hanging off of them decorating the trees, rocks lining a path to a wooden altar covered in a beautiful array of flowers, most of them red and yellow, and Zedaph smiles, eyes unable to focus back in on the scenery when they fall upon  _ them _ .

Of course, the wedded couple would be the one to take the spotlight, dressed in radiant white, Tango’s blond mop of hair adorned with even more flowers, a veil pushed to the side as he keeps kissing Impulse’s entire face, both of them laughing and smiling, neither able to keep their hands off of each other.

Zedaph thinks his heart might just melt from where he stands as he watches them, mere feet away, a still full glass of champagne in his hand, strands of pale blond hair falling into his eyes, but he is too focused on his friends, his  _ best _ friends, to care.Their giggles are infectious, their love obvious, and they are just breathtaking, but then again, when aren’t they? Zedaph has spent enough time admiring the way mischief crooks Tango’s smiles and makes his red eyes sparkle with mirth, and he’s more than once daydreamed about the soft look that slips on Impulse’s face whenever he looks at Tango, and together, they paint a happy image, one that is whole, one that makes Zedaph giddy with joy for them. One that makes something slip and fall and break inside his chest, something fragile, something that Zedaph wonders if he’ll ever be able to put back together.

He manages to keep the smile on his face, even if it's a bit subdued, and looks at the table to his right, the food on it meticulously prepared, the meat probably too spicy for anyone other than Tango to enjoy, Zedaph observes with a fond sigh.

He is just about to reach for a plate when there’s a tap on his shoulder, and maybe Zedaph already knows who it is. Maybe that is why he hesitates to turn around, stalling for time until he can ensure that his mien doesn’t give anything other than excitement away, and then he moves. 

He realizes that seeing them up close is different, that it pokes at his heart until it aches, and that this time, he really cannot look away. 

“Hey, Zed! Enjoying the buffet?”, Tango asks before he throws an arm around Zedaph’s shoulders and ruffles his hair like he’s done a million times before, but it’s not the same this time, and Zedaph knows why, even if Tango doesn’t. He still laughs because he can’t help it and, once he draws back and gives his friends a onceover, choosing not to linger on the way Impulse’s eyes shine with happy tears, nor on the way one of Tango’s hand rests at the small of Impulse’s back like it belongs there, and it does, Zedaph brings his own hands together in front of his mouth, the same gesture his mother would do when she was left speechless with delight.

“Don’t you two look dashing”, Zedaph comments and laughs again after blinking the sting in his purple eyes away, but he cannot help still looking at them, cannot help but smile, genuinely, because he  _ is _ glad for them, ”Goodness, but I’m happy.”

He means it, he really does. 

There’s another long inhale from Impulse, and it sounds a bit shaky, but then he is being pulled into his arms, the smell of flowers and  _ Impulse _ making the fuzziness in Zedaph’s head even worse.

“Thank you. For helping with the wedding. For being here. For  _ everything _ , Zed”, Impulse mutters, emotion clogging up his voice, and it is only once Tango joins, Zedaph’s face concealed fully now where it is pressed into white fabric, that he lets the smile fall. To be fair, he’d been the one to notice these two fools pining after one another and, in a moment of brilliance and utter self-sabotaging stupidity, Zedaph had brought them together. Surely, it probably would have happened one way or another, but Zedaph setting them up on a date together might have been a tipping point in their relationship. At the time, Zedaph hadn’t realised what it would mean, he’d been too new, too excited at becoming a hermit to even think about feelings and romance and all those things that he’s always scoffed at. He does now, though, but it’s too late for that. He should just support his friends.

“It’s...”, it almost makes Zedaph choke and, as soon as the hug starts shifting, he already has his smile, wide and toothy and silly and only a bit fake, back on his face, so he breathes again and, once he meets red and brown eyes with his own gaze, he takes another breath and tries again, “It’s the least I could do. Tango, Impulse, I hope...”

_ I hope you find happiness together _ , but they already have, without him.

“I wish you two the best”, Zedaph says and laughs as he wipes a tear away, his friends laughing with him, and, from their perspective, he is probably just emotional because of the whole affair, who  _ wouldn’t _ be, it’s his two best friends’  _ wedding _ , “Truly.”

The soft smiles he gets in return makes whatever is left of Zedaph’s poor heart shake, the shards clinking together in a painful symphony, but he smiles regardless, Impulse leading Tango away with a wave towards Zedaph so they can talk to the rest of their guests.

Zedaph wants to leave the moment their backs are turned, but it wouldn’t be appropriate, he knows, so he swallows his feelings down until they make him sick and makes sure to present the perfect image of an overly-sentimental best friend.

* * *

It’s late night, or maybe early morning, judging by the songbird echoing around his mountain, by the time Zedaph makes it back to his base, his vest unbuttoned, his hair even more of a mess than before, the half ponytail all but undone, and there’s the lingering edges of a grin still on his face. He is dragging his feet, but at least he’s not despairing just yet, and for that, he would pat himself on the back.

Zedaph opens the iron door with a tired press of the button above it.

The numbness in his chest lasts for a moment longer, just enough for the door to close behind him and, as the cold air of the Cave of Contraptions hits his face, all of his projects coming into view, the only things to fill the vast space, that, too, breaks.

It’s not quite immediate, and if Zedaph were to compare it to anything, it would be falling into the void. At first, it’s just the feeling of falling freely, nothing there to grab onto, nothing for him to hit on his way, and it’s  _ almost _ pleasant, but then it steals his air, then it makes his body tense up and, before he knows it, the void takes hold of him, never to let go.

He’s not actually falling into the void, obviously, but with the way pain slowly sets in, he almost wishes he were. If that were the case, he could respawn and then everything would be over. This is a wound that won’t heal, that won’t go away, and Zedaph knows it will get better, it always does, he  _ knows _ that, one day, he’ll bring the pieces of his heart back together, but right now, it…

It just hurts.   
He slides down the metal door, it's cold surface contrasting the hot tears that roll down his cheeks and Zedaph can do nothing but pull his knees to his chest and cover his mouth with his hands, not allowing a single sob to escape.

_ I’m happy for them, I really am _ , Zedaph tells himself, over and over again, until he understands it, until the hurt eases, but a traitorous little voice in his brain whispers, and it grabs onto the wound in his chest and it  _ pulls _ at its bloody edges.

_ So why does it hurt? _

**Author's Note:**

> It's not an entirely sad ending because while I enjoy tragedies, I cannot for the life of me write them well, but I hope this hurt ypu as much as it hurt me sdhfjkhfjdshfds

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Let It Live](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28649493) by [AbschaumNo1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbschaumNo1/pseuds/AbschaumNo1)




End file.
